Yay! Puberty Tag Team!

Yay! Puberty Tag Team!

Raging highs! Despondent and bereft lows! Tears, lashing out, and heartfelt apologies, all in the space of 93.6 seconds. 

Every. Single. Mothereffing. Day. 

Hello, pubic hair. 

Goodbye holding hands in public. 
Howdy-do, nose-hair-incinerating body odor. Let me introduce you to a good friend of mine, Mr. Old Spice, and his associate, Señor Axe. Kindly avail yourself of their products. Like, stat. Because the stank is at defcon 5. And I mean that in the nicest possible way. 

Good evening mood swings, super nice to have you as my co-pilot. I hear you’ll be staying awhile. I suppose we should get cozy and settle in for the ride. I’ll grab the gin, you grab the tonic. I’ll meet you at the corner of Belligerent Ave and Volatile Way. 

What’s shaking, newly-enlarged ballsack? I’ll be over here, pretending not to notice the Chia Pet that’s installed itself on you. Let me know when you need some clippers to trim that shit back. 

Hey there, deep voice. Oh, goodbye deep voice. Hey there again, deep voi…oh…nope…you’re leaving again. Okay, see you in a minu…oh, there you are again! You’re like a crazed prairie dog, popping up all over the place. 

Goodnight, cuddling in bed. And waking up happy. And clear skin. Oh, and rational conversations. 

Buenos dias constant crankiness. And acne. Oh, and circular reasoning. 

Goodbye, sweet and predictable little boys. 

Hello, sweet and erratic man children. 

Feel free to flail away. 

I’ve buckled up and strapped in, so I’m here when you need me. 

Just give a shout, or a mumble, or a death stare. 

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